


these deep waters

by tootsonnewts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon event references, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Relationship, Selkie AU, half-mer! keith, meetings and separations, selkie! shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 03:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18932818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: A sharp inhale sounds out behind him, and he spins on an unsteady heel to find its owner. Brilliant violet eyes stare up at him through long eyelashes, wide and full of wonder. The instinct to wrap himself up again and throw his body back into the sea hits him like a wall. The sky shifts overhead and the moon shines bright upon them, highlighting the stranger in shimmering beams.“Holy shit,” the man whispers, voice low and velvety. “I knew you were real.”Shiro is a selkie, living a mostly solitary life, until a chance meeting changes the entirety of his future.





	these deep waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zjofierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/gifts).



> zjo requested an expansion of an existing selkie concept i cooked up for a prompt challenge on twitter, so here it is! i also wanted to throw in a little something special for mer-may, and i just managed to do it in time!
> 
> this was so much fun to write, and i really enjoyed getting into something with creatures i haven't written yet. can you believe i've never written selkies before? i don't even know who i am anymore.
> 
> big thank you to zjo for being so patient and encouraging with me while i worked through a few details i got myself hung up on until i was happy!
> 
> please feel free to come visit me over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_tootsonnewts) if you'd like, and i hope you have a wonderful day!

The water is cool, slipping around Shiro’s skin like silk. He closes his eyes in bliss, sinking into the calm sensation as he floats along beneath the ocean’s surface.

Autumn is his favorite season by far. The trees change colors, blazing into fiery oranges and reds and yellows. The water cools and froths, taking on a sharper, mineral tang that’s nearly indescribable. It’s like stepping outside in a cold rain and breathing deep, only you’re surrounded by it, wrapped in it, blanketed in its indifference.

Shiro opens his eyes and pumps his tail, propelling himself toward the shore for his monthly trip into his favorite seaside town. It’s a tiny thing, all strung up in lights and decorations, but always bustling with vibrant life. His mouth waters at the thought of his favorite sushi bowl waiting somewhere in the center of it all.

Shiro breaks through the surface as he beaches himself, the water sluicing off his seal skin in messy rivulets. He stands on shaky legs, pulling the skin around his shoulders as he teeters off toward the cave he prefers to store it in. His bare feet sink in the sand, landing heavy with the sensation of excess weight that always throws him off balance.

A sharp inhale sounds out behind him, and he spins on an unsteady heel to find its owner. Brilliant violet eyes stare up at him through long eyelashes, wide and full of wonder. The instinct to wrap himself up again and throw his body back into the sea hits him like a wall. The sky shifts overhead and the moon shines bright upon them, highlighting the stranger in shimmering beams.

“Holy shit,” the man whispers, voice low and velvety. “I knew you were real.”

Shiro recoils instinctively. It’s not so much at being caught out, he has been before. It’s moreso the fact that the man is brilliant. Something about him is familiar in a blurry-edged memory sort of way. His hair is a wild mess of glossy obsidian, his skin sun-darkened and freckled. His lips are curled up at the edges, a constant display of a life lived with laughter. He’s beautiful and Shiro’s chest tightens.

The man takes a measured step forward.

“It’s been a long time. I wasn’t sure if I was just crazy or if I really saw you.”

Shiro swallows and glances toward his skin.

“Don’t worry,” the man assures. “I won’t take it. I know you need it. I won’t tell, either.”

That grabs Shiro’s attention. His eyes dart back to the man’s face in surprise.

“I’m Keith,” he says, offering his hand. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Keith waits patiently for Shiro to collect himself, hand remaining steadily in the air until Shiro reaches out and takes it.

“I’m Shiro.” His voice is a croak, thin and brittle from months of disuse. He doesn’t speak much these days, nonetheless speak human. His life is a fairly solitary one, all things told. He swims, he wanders, he lives. In a sense, anyway. Selkie can’t afford to be social creatures. Still, Keith smiles up at him, gripping his hand warmly.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Shiro.”

He has a very nice smile.

They stand there, holding each other’s hand far past what Shiro would imagine to be an appropriate amount of time. It’s nice, though. Shiro hasn’t had personal contact with anyone else in a while, and it feels nearly overwhelming, this miniscule touch. Keith looks at him politely but there’s nothing expectant in his stare, just mild curiosity.

“You wanna grab some grub?”

Shiro startles. “Grub?”

“Ah, right. Sorry, I guess you wouldn’t be up on...slang? Is that even slang? I don’t really know what to call it.” Keith is most definitely speaking more to himself than Shiro. Thinking out loud. It’s charming. Shiro does it himself sometimes, when he floats among seaweed forests and tries to puzzle something out. “Whatever. Food. You wanna get some food?”

Shiro’s stomach grumbles at the very mention. Keith laughs at him. They’re still holding hands. Shiro’s human skin is getting sweaty.

“I’ll take that as a yes. You should really put some clothes on first, though.”

Shiro startles again. Right. He’s naked. In front of a stranger. Fantastic. It’s not so much that he’s shy or overly concerned about modesty, but he knows humans can be odd about nakedness. There’s a relatively recent incident involving a flower garden and several old women floating through his mind to prove it.

“Right,” Shiro agrees, reaching for the rucksack he keeps his human clothes hidden in. The shoes are beginning to look worn. They’ll need replacing soon, he thinks as he slips them on. Keith waits patiently as he ties the laces, glancing up at the stars while Shiro finishes and stands.

“Okay,” Keith says. “I don’t want to seem presumptuous or anything, but do you like fish? There’s this place downtown that makes _amazing_ sushi bowls, but I also don’t want to, I dunno, be insensitive. Is that insensitive?”

Shiro laughs at Keith’s sudden display of nervousness, watching amusedly as he shuffles around on his feet. He sets a hand down on Keith’s arm to settle him.

“I love fish.”

Keith smiles brilliantly again. “Let’s go, then.”

 

+++

 

Shiro laughs to himself as Keith strolls up to the door of his favorite restaurant. Funny how these things always seem to work out like this. Keith looks back over his shoulder as he pulls the door open.

“What’s so funny?”

“I like this place.”

“And that’s funny?”

“It’s nice.”

Keith’s cheeks go pink. “Oh.”

They seat themselves at the sushi bar to order — it would seem Shiro isn’t the only one well-versed in this restaurant’s menu — and chat while they wait.

“Can I ask about it?” Keith begins quietly. “Your, uh...condition?”

Shiro glances around them, scanning for anyone who may be eavesdropping. It’s futile, they’re the only ones in the place, but he can’t help the suspicion. He knows what happens when creatures like him are found out. Well, until now, it would seem. He looks back to Keith. Something tells him he can take the leap. So he does.

“Sure. But just be tactful, please.”

Keith nods enthusiastically. “Of course. First things first: how old are you?”

It’s such a simple question that it startles a laugh out of Shiro. “All the questions to be asked and that’s where you begin?”

“Well, yeah,” Keith says. “I’d like to know about you.”

It’s simple and guileless. Spoken like a universal truth. Shiro can’t seem to keep the smile that’s been plastered on his face all evening away. “I’m twenty-six.” Keith’s answer is a simple _hmm_ as he sips his soda. “And how old are you, Keith?”

“Twenty-three.”

“I see. And are you a student?”

“Yeah. I go to school at the community col—wait a second. This isn’t about me. This is about _you._ ” Keith’s eyes narrow at the deflection. Shiro simply shrugs. He tried. “Don’t try me again, fish boy.”

Shiro snorts. “I apologize, sir.”

“Apology accepted. Okay, second question: what’s it like? You know, changing.”

“Ah,” Shiro says. It’s a question he’s thought about before. How would he describe the change? It’s a difficult sensation to put words to. “Have you ever lost consciousness, but only for a moment? Like blacking out without hitting the ground?”

Keith nods.

“It’s like that in a way. I’m me, but then my mind sort of goes blank and then I’m a different me. The other me. It’s not so magical, but it’s always a little disorienting.”

“So no sparkles or rainbows or beams of light, huh?”

“That would be strange, I think,” Shiro laughs. “What’s your next question?”

“How do you take care of your, uh—” Keith pauses to think. “Cape? Yeah, your cape.”

“Like anyone else would care for a cape, I’d imagine. I wash it, tend to it, make sure it gets mended if needed.”

“What happens if it gets damaged beyond repair?”

“Let’s hope I don’t find out, yeah?”

“Fair enough.”

Their food arrives and they eat in silence for a bit, Shiro sighing in pleasure at the first taste of fatty salmon on his tongue. It’s enough to make him forget his surroundings and dining companion. He munches joyfully until Keith’s quiet voice pipes up again.

“Did you know we met before? When we were kids, I mean. It was a long time ago.”

It shocks Shiro. He’s seen plenty of humans in his life, run from them, avoided them, and he only ever actually _met_ one. But that’s impossible. It was many years ago when he was but a pup. He can’t even remember how old he was when it happened.

“I was five, so you would’ve been around eight, I imagine,” Keith answers the question for him. “It was a fun day.”

And it was. Shiro remembers that day vividly. The pod stopped for a rest in the very alcove Shiro visits monthly. His mother — their matriarch — released the pups to play for a time while the sun was at its peak. High sun is a difficult time for selkie to travel, and even more difficult when energetic young are involved. And so, off Shiro swam, splashing about in the shallows, chasing crabs and guppies. Until, of course, he met him. At the time, Shiro hadn’t any idea what the youngling was. All he knew was it was a stringy little thing, with arms and _legs._ Shiro had never met a creature with legs like that.

He was younger than Shiro, and curious to boot. His missing front tooth didn’t stop his tongue from running a knot a minute as he asked to touch Shiro’s tail and go swimming. Somehow, the child knew that Shiro wasn’t simply an animal. His eyes were bright and gleaming with something that set him apart. Shiro was much too young to sense what it was, however. Just as he wound up to chase the boy around, his mother snatched him up by the tail, dragging him away into deeper waters.

His lecture was long and terrifying. Stories of selkies with their skins stolen, their tails taken, thrown into lives of servitude at the hands of the very creatures the boy came from.

It was enough to drive Shiro away from his curiosity for many years.

Until his mother died.

Until his pod collapsed.

Until he was alone.

With time, removing his coat and finding work became part of his reality. This very town became a part of him, although he lived removed from its inhabitants. He thought, at least.

“I never knew what happened to you,” Keith continues. “I knew you were special. I could feel it.”

“You aren’t human,” Shiro whispers. Keith smiles lightly, a tender, fledgling thing.

“Maybe not.”

 

+++

 

The night air is cooler than when they entered the restaurant. Shiro wraps his battered windbreaker around Keith’s shoulders.

“Won’t you be cold?”

“Blubber, remember?”

Keith looks him up and down skeptically. “Sure.”

Shiro knows when he isn’t being believed. Sure, his human form is muscular and large, but he’s always run warm. The chill doesn’t penetrate his skin like so many other creatures it might. Besides, he caught Keith’s shiver at the temperature whether the other man knows it or not.

“Don’t worry, Keith. I’ll be fine.”

Keith still doesn’t believe him. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Keith makes to turn away but stops himself and glances back at Shiro. “Now what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you normally do when you come to town?”

Shiro scrubs his hand nervously through his hair. It’s getting long again. He’ll need to cut it soon. He’s stalling, of course, but he doesn’t need Keith to know that.

“Stop stalling.”

Alright then.

“You won’t like my answer.”

“That’s for me to decide, don’t you think?”

Fair enough.

“I go to the beach.”

Keith pauses. “You _what_?”

His reaction isn’t all that surprising. But it’s hard to describe the draw Shiro feels to the water. It’s a part of him, lives in him. It’s like the family he no longer bears. It’s his constant companion and means of escape. To not have it near makes him nervous. He doesn’t know how to convey this to Keith. Instead, he just hopes his tone can get his point across.

“I go to the beach. I go to the water. I like the quiet.”

Keith looks at him seriously, obviously weighing the words in his head. He nods.

“I go to the stars.”

“What?”

Keith smirks up at Shiro, snatching up his hand and dragging him away. “Come on. You have one night, right? We’re gonna show you some cool shit.”

 

+++

 

Shiro’s never been on a motorcycle before, but he decides he likes it very much. It’s faster than he could ever swim, and the air rushing through his hair and over his skin is refreshing in the same way cool water is. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, sinking into the feeling as Keith steers them to wherever it is he wants Shiro to go.

Their pace slows a bit as the bike leans back. Shiro opens his eyes and finds them climbing a slope he’s never seen before.

“You’re gonna love this, trust me!” Keith shouts over his shoulder. Shiro tightens his grip around Keith’s waist and hopes he knows what he’s doing.

They reach the top of the hill Keith maneuvered them to and Keith stops the bike, parking it beneath a tree near a picnic table. He reaches out to take the helmet he forced on Shiro and helps him off the bike. It takes a moment for Shiro to look around after standing and brushing himself off, but once he does, he can’t help but gasp at the sight.

The hill stands high above the town, perching them in just such a way as to see _everything_. The lights of homes and business illuminate the valley below, dotting it like a shimmering carpet of algae. Keith steps up beside him, arms crossed over his chest and smile plastered across his face. Above them, the sky is bright and clear. The full moon illuminates Keith’s high cheekbones, sparkles off his long eyelashes, throws shadows beneath his lips.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Shiro swallows, looking away. “It is.”

“When I was a kid, my pops would bring me up here every weekend. We’d hang out, look at the city. He taught me about the stars, you know? How to map them, where they are, how to find my way home if I ever needed to.”

Shiro follows Keith’s line of sight up to the sky where the stars shine brilliantly above them.

“Did you ever need to?” Shiro asks.

A long pause follows.

“Yeah,” Keith whispers, but it’s strangled. It’s cracked. It’s full of a history that Shiro knows he isn’t entitled to, but can’t help but be curious after. Keith deserves a piece of Shiro after giving a piece of himself, though.

“I like the stars, too,” he says, following Keith as he settles down at the table. “It’s why I go to the beach when I come to land. Well, part of it, anyway.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm. The sea is dark and deep, but it’s full of wonderful, amazing things to discover. The sky is just like it, only...upside down. Stars are the fish of the sky. Or something like that.”

Keith laughs, belly deep and amused. “Something like that.”

“I wouldn’t mind swimming with them one day.”

Keith stops laughing. He squints up at the sky, a gentle smile lighting up his face. “Me neither.”

They settle down on top of the picnic table and lay back, watching the turn of the Earth reflected in the sky.

“I grew up in the desert. Me and dad moved here after my mom died. He started teaching me about the stars when we were there, and I guess when we got here, it got more important. I learned to track out there, but to navigate here.”

Shiro pauses to imagine such a childhood. A time in life spent exploring the sand and the creatures that live amongst its grains. Would it be constantly scorching? Would it be comforting like the sea? Is it as wild as Shiro imagines it to be?

He glances over at Keith, watching as he draws a knee to his chest and blinks slowly upward.

“That sounds like a wonderful childhood.”

Keith’s smile is small but true. “It was.”

“We all know how to track from under water,” Shiro offer. “It’s a skill you learn early on. For whenever you find yourself alone.”

“Does that happen often?” Keith asks, and even though Shiro knew he would, it still manages to take him somewhat by surprise. He loses his breath for a moment as he thinks back over the darkest times of his life, over the last decade he’s spent wandering the tides along.

“More than you could know.”

“That sounds sad,” Keith says. His tone isn’t pitying. If anything, it’s understanding. It’s the tone of someone who knows loneliness and the long shadow it casts.

“It is.”

Shiro is sure Keith already knows this.

“Well, we’re friends now, so tell me about yourself.” It’s almost a demand, but it’s enough to startle a laugh out of Shiro. Still, he acquiesces. He tells Keith all about his puphood, about his adolescence. He talks about growing up alone and finding work on docks and boats, easy places where he could slip away unnoticed if the fire ever got too hot and he had to run before anyone figured him out. He tells him about past loves that didn’t pan out, and the few friends he occasionally sees while on land.

In return, Keith describes — in excruciating detail — how internal combustion engines work and the finesse it really takes to change spark plugs.

“Everyone thinks you just pop the old one out and shove the new one in, but you gotta be nice to it, you know? If you drive the thing every day, don’t you think you’d wanna treat like it deserves? It’s basically your child.”

Shiro watches on fondly as Keith continues speaking, sharing bits of his life and experiences. He was lost for a while once his father passed away, looking for meaning in the world and a place somewhere in its crevices. No matter what he did, he could only find himself back in the town that connected them so deeply. It’s the town his mother is from, the town where his parents met.

The coast here has a much deeper meaning to their family, Keith tells him with a meaningful look on his face. His mother was a woman of the water. She was born with the sea in her veins, he says. His brows flex as he says it, trying to convey a deeper meaning. Shiro is fairly certain he knows what it is. Violet blue eyes aren’t a natural human trait, that much he knows. But they are common underwater. They’re common among merfolk.

Still, he knows better than to outright ask. They’re essentially strangers, after all.

But there’s something about Keith. Something unique and unusual that draws Shiro to him. It’s an unusual calmness that not many humans emanate. It’s a sense that Keith knows exactly who he is as a person and only behaves accordingly. There is no pretense about him. It’s refreshing and Shiro likes it very much.

As he and Keith chat long into the night, the first hints of a sunrise touch the sky in purples and blues, to be chased by the oranges and reds that will wash the world in sunlight. Soon, Shiro will need to find his way back to his skin. He needs to slip into the water before anyone can notice him doing so.

“You gotta go, huh?” Keith asks, noticing his distraction.

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, I should make sure I’m back under before the sun comes up.”

“That’s understandable. Wouldn’t want anyone to see. Well—” Keith slaps his knees for emphasis, standing from the table— “Let’s get you out of here, huh?”

The ride back down to sea level and to his precious skin is quieter, somehow. It’s a calming trip, Shiro closing his eyes to feel the slip of cool morning air over his skin, to hear the roar of the engine one last time in his ears. The engine dulls as Keith slows and pulls into a parking space near the beach. Even that is comforting somehow.

His skin is just where he left it, untouched and safe. Shiro wonders if Keith might help him hide new clothes next time. He undresses slowly, folding his battered outfit carefully and tucking it away in the bag he stores it in. Keith looks politely over Shiro’s shoulder as he stand to his full height again. Humans and their strange modesty will never fail to amuse him.

He drapes his skin over his arm and the two of them make their way to the edge of the water. They stop at the edge, the water lapping the shore, licking at Shiro’s toes as if to draw him back in, back home where he belongs.

“Well,” Keith says awkwardly. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“No,” Shiro says with a smile. “It’s see you for now. We’ll meet again, I’m sure.”

Keith smiles, the sparkle of it reaching his eyes. His cheeks are pink in the ocean breeze. His hair is tousled on the wind. He’s a glorious creature to behold and Shiro is infatuated with the picture he paints. He reaches out absentmindedly, drawing Keith into a hug.

“I’ll see you soon, Keith.”

Keith is stiff in his arms. Whether it’s from isolation or other reasons, Shiro hopes to learn some day. For now, he’ll do his best to transfer some warmth to the man as a promise of his return. Eventually, Keith relaxes into it, returning the embrace with feeling.

“See you soon, Shiro.”

The water is cool, slipping around Shiro’s skin like silk. He returns to its frothy depths slowly, sinking back into his true form the deeper he goes. He looks forward to his return, whenever that may be. Hopefully soon. He looks forward to seeing a true friend one more time.

 

+++

 

The water is cold where he is, and dark. It’s the starless kind of dark, the endless, unceasing, hopeless kind. There’s no way to know how much time has passed since his abrupt and violent arrival. There’s no way to know how long he’s been gone from the freedom of the open sea.

All he knows is fear and pain, an unending spiral of hateful, frothing mouths shouting at him for more. More violence. More brutality. More blood. More, more, _more._

The Champion, they’d branded him. The sea witch’s trophy and number one pet. It’s a laughable concept, Shiro thinks. He knows about pets. He knows about the affection and love showered down upon them. He is no pet. He is Haggar’s plaything, pulled from his woven-reed cage at her whims, toyed with at her pleasure, torn and mutilated and _ruined_ at her smooth, emotionless direction.

There is no Shiro now. There is only The Champion.

Less a flipper, replaced by an unholy creation of metal and magic. His teeth are sharpened now, his body larger. He hardly recognizes his own mind on the best of days.

The crowd roars around him, bringing Shiro back to himself from behind the bars of the arena entrance.

 _Today is an important day, Champion._ Shiro didn’t understand the words sneered his way by one of his captor’s guards as they jostled him through the maze of cages he now calls home. _Today is the day you prove your worth to our Empress._

The underwater arena is a sight to behold. Impressive in its size and terrifying in its implication, it’s a feat of magic only Haggar is capable of creating. Her toys, her pets, her captives, her enemies  **—** all are subject to the cruelest and slowest of tortures upon the sands of this bowl of violence. A stadium of hate, another captive had called it once. Shiro agreed.

Shiro faced that same captive just three nights later.

He was a beautiful creature. Giant in stature, strong in constitution, all long limbed tentacles and sharp, clacking beak. As his thick blood spread in the water beneath Shiro’s hands, Shiro couldn’t help but think of how the color complimented the octopus’s skin.

It dawned upon him, then, the horrors that would one day end his own life. Another creature like him. Another innocent life turned beast. His false arm was no more gift than any other injury given to him throughout his struggles in captivity. On that day, Shiro vowed to himself to find a way out. To find a way home.

Home.

Home is a complicated concept for Shiro now. His true home is the sea. But the sea betrayed him. Perhaps not the sea itself, but it plays host to a witch, a true monster hidden carefully among its depths. It played host to the boat that struck him, mangled his body and dropped him directly into her clutches. The water embraces her, claws and all, as she conducts her gruesome business. Shiro isn’t sure that it’s a home he wants to make again.

He thinks back to a sandy beach on a cool evening shared with warm eyes and a soft smile.

He thinks back to the only person who ever promised to see him again.

He thinks back to the man he swore to return to.

He thinks back to Keith.

The man he failed.

The water is cold where he is, and dark. The bars of the gate raise, opening his way into the arena. Shiro shivers. It isn’t from the cold. A guard prods him forward with a trident cursed of the witch’s magic. It shocks him somehow, forcing him forward into the open. The crowd roars around him, a deafening fever pitch of bloodlust and clamor. It rings in his ears, the high-pitched ring of too much, too much, _too much._

Still, he has to fight through it. He has to survive. He has to see Keith again. Shiro squares his body and swims forward to meet his opponent. His opponent isn’t there. Shiro sees nothing.

The water is inkjet, a physical, unnatural cloud of the deepest black, thicker than a squid’s diversion and darker still.

All sound is lost in the cloud, all scent dampened.

He doesn’t see the claw aimed directly for his face.

He doesn’t see it.

Then, Shiro doesn’t see anything at all. A sharp pain cracks his face open wide, pouring blood into the water and thrusting him into unconsciousness more encompassing than the darkness that surrounds him.

 

+++

 

His ears are still ringing when he comes to, and as he raises his battered body from the ocean floor, the arena is in chaos all around him. Creatures of all shapes and sizes rush around, ignoring him as he rolls himself around on the sandy floor. The arena is both unnaturally dark and unnaturally light, pockets of midnight sky and pockets of red light bleeding throughout the entirety of the space. Creatures screech and squeal and scream as they make their escape.

A firm grasp tugs at his natural flipper, yanking him harshly up from the ground.

“Come. We must go.”

A man the likes of which Shiro has never seen drags him along in his wake, swimming determinedly toward the exit. He’s a hulking sort of creature, nearly mer in appearance, but not at all like any of the other mer Shiro has met in his life. His tail resembles a shark’s, his skin tinged a sickly purple. His face is feline in appearance, very much like the catfish Shiro has only ever seen once before. It reminds him very much of his captors, the violent arrangements of creatures that Haggar deigned to breed in her service.

The realization stops him cold.

He struggles in the man’s grip, trying his best to tear himself away, to escape from the clutches of what will surely be a horrible fate.

“Please stop struggling,” the man says, although it sounds more like a demand than a request. “I know this is disorienting. Believe me, we did attempt to make your escape a much quieter affair.”

“Who are you?” Shiro’s voice wavers more than he’d like. It comes out small and afraid, much like he feels most days. The strange mer continues to swim, escorting Shiro away surreptitiously.

They weave their way through broken cages and downed columns, wreckage of the monument to Haggar’s power. The mer turns over his shoulder as they swim, “I am Kolivan. Keith sent me to retrieve you.”

“Keith sent you? How did he know where I was?”

“He did not. When you went missing, he called in a favor. We took over the search from there. Keith may suffer from a lack of tail, but he is no less our kit. When he needs us, we are there.”

Shiro doesn’t know whether he should feel relieved at the reveal. Although Keith alluded to it, he never outright said that he was related to merfolk. This is hardly the time to scrape this notion together, but Shiro very often finds that any time is hardly the time these days.

“What sort of mer are you?”

“That is unimportant,” Kolivan rumbles, tugging Shiro into the depths of the ocean. “I believe we have a friend to return you to. He is extremely worried after your safety.”

Shiro snorts. Kolivan glances at him askance, eyes deep with understanding. He lets go of his tight grip and gestures Shiro to trail behind him.

“I will take you as far as the limits of Keith’s bay. From there, you will need to find your own way.”

Shiro nods and swims quietly in Kolivan’s wake.

 

+++

 

Many days after his rescue, Kolivan leaves Shiro just as he said, at the boundary of the bay.

Shiro is exhausted, not only from the swim, but also from the mental weight of his lost year weighing him down in the face of his impending relief. He slows considerably as he approaches the shore, pausing to consider just what he’ll do when he finally sees Keith again. How does one thank the man who held out hope for you after only meeting you once? How could Shiro express the undying gratitude he owes Keith for staging his rescue?

How could he put to words that he doesn’t know what the future holds for him, but he knows he’d like it to hold Keith in some way?

There is no way, he supposes, besides just saying it.

And he can’t do that floating around in the ocean.

So he swims determinedly toward the shore.

Shiro finally beaches himself, tugging his skin away from his shoulders and gasping into the sand. Footsteps rush in his direction as Keith runs up to him, helping him up from the ground. Shiro’s knees are wobbly and weak. He’s nearly forgotten how walking works in his time away, and it feels almost shameful, the amount of his weight he needs to foist onto Keith.

Keith simply grunts, adjusting himself to support the load as he props Shiro up against his shoulder.

Shiro is afraid to look at him. He’s afraid to make the first move, so overwhelmed and petrified at his return to land and to Keith that he hardly knows what to do with himself. His breathing is faster than it should be, he knows. Although he just burst from the ocean into cold air, he can feel himself start to sweat.

A warm hand finds its way to his cheek, guiding his eyes away from the ground to meet Keith’s. They’re just as vibrant and warm as the last time he saw them. His breath shudders out of him in a muffled sob. Keith looks stricken in return.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. It’s okay, Shiro, I’ve got you.” His voice is colored in disbelief, a wondrous tone laced across each and every word. He’s apologetic when he continues, “I’m so sorry it took so long to find you. I tried. I really did. It took me a while to figure out something was up, you know? We’d never properly met before, and I didn’t know if you always came into town each month or if it was just a fluke the one time. But I figured the longer it took you to come back, there had to be something wrong. So I sent my uncle a message and, uh, you know the rest.”

Shiro watches him speak. He hears the words. They reach his brain and reverberate through his skull. He processes them, he does, but it’s hard to fully take them in through his shock. He reaches out, wrapping his hand — blackened, metallic, and cursed from the witch’s tampering — around Keith’s bicep.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. “You found me.”

Keith pauses, turns his head away to hide a blush, and clears his throat.

“I brought you some new clothes.”

Shiro smiles.


End file.
